


Love is All You Need

by caitlinrose923



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitlinrose923/pseuds/caitlinrose923
Summary: Contributions to the 14 Valentine's prompts foundhere.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day One: Secret Admirer  
> *un-betaed*

“Okay, this is beginning to get a little weird,” Emma Swan told her deskmate, Mary Margaret Blanchard. “This is the third day in a row there’s been some sort of gift on my desk.”

It had started off innocently enough: a box of those sweetheart candies with silly messages written on them, alongside a sketch of Emma herself, looking bored on the phone as she took a customer’s call. She’d asked around, but no one had seen the mysterious gift-giver, nor did anyone know who had a secret talent for art.

The next day, a box of Emma’s favorite chocolates had been waiting for her. The sketch had been old, or at least drawn from memory. The drawn version of Emma was dressed in the outfit she’d worn to the Christmas party a few months prior: a dress that was a bit fancy for her tastes, but good enough for the occasion. Her hair fell down in curls and she was walking through what looked to be the door of the restaurant where they’d held the event.

Finally, today, a bouquet of red roses stood tall and proud beside her computer. It was the most obviously romantic gesture: the person in question was clearly tired of playing around. Emma searched everywhere for a card, but only found another sketch of herself. It looked like the artist had seen her frustratingly asking every single person in the office who her admirer was. Her sketch-self was angry, with little squiggly lines coming off of her to signal her rage, and her eyes were rolling as she spoke to… was that Regina?

There were only three people whose desks would have given them a good angle for a drawing like this.

Walsh Ozman, Killian Jones, and Ruby Lucas.

Emma immediately ruled out Ruby. Not because Ruby wouldn’t have been interested – they’d already gone down that path and agreed they were much better as friends – but because she knew for a solid fact that Ruby Lucas would never send roses.

“They’re just so overdone, I think,” Ruby had said once when Regina had been considering using roses in her wedding. “You gotta go for something more unique.”

So that left two possibilities, one of whom was the best-looking man in the office.

Emma shook her head, thinking to herself. There was no way Killian would send such cheesy gifts. And if he could draw, he’d definitely be showing off to everyone. He brought his guitar to every office party because he loved the attention. No way would he keep artistic talent a secret.

Which left Walsh Ozman. Emma had always figured he was interested in her – he offered to get her coffee every day, shared his homemade desserts with her, and always lingered just a little longer than necessary when he shook her hand or grazed her arm. Emma was not remotely attracted to him, though, so she figured it was best to let him down now, before the gifts became more elaborate.

“Hey Walsh,” she plastered on a fake smile as she approached his desk. His face lit up and he grinned when he met her eyes.

“Hey Emma! Any exciting plans for Valentine’s Day?” Walsh looked positively hopeful and Emma instantly felt horrible.

“Nope, just me and Netflix. Nothing crazy. Listen, I—”

“We could go out. If you wanted. For Valentine’s.” His eyebrows raised and he bit his lip. Emma really didn’t like Walsh in a romantic way, but maybe she should at least give him a shot… She barely knew him, and maybe he’d surprise her.

“Um, maybe not like, on Valentine’s Day. But another day,” she heard herself saying.

“What about tonight?” Walsh was nearly vibrating with excitement now. Emma did her best not to roll her eyes.

“Sure.”

There was a crash, suddenly, as Killian knocked over his pen cup and the contents flew everywhere. Emma went to help him clean up, nearly smashing her head into his in the process.

“Sorry for the noise. I uh… I wasn’t paying attention.” He was grabbing pens from all over the floor, not looking at Emma.

“That’s okay. Did you find them all?” She looked around on the ground for more. She saw one under the desk, a fancy looking black pen that didn’t look like it had any place in a cheap office setting, where all it would be used for was…

Emma froze, the pen just out of reach. It was very clearly a pen for drawing and not for writing.

No way, she thought to herself. She was about to ask Killian about the pen when he saw it himself and snatched it, throwing it back in the pen cup with just a bit more force than necessary.

Her plans with Walsh were all but forgotten as she made her way back to her desk. Had Killian been the one leaving her gifts after all? He’d barely even paid any attention to her in the year they’d worked together. But that pen…  
~~  
Later that night, after Emma had nearly fallen asleep listening to Walsh talk about himself for an hour at dinner, she found herself thinking about the pen again.

She’d waited for Walsh to bring up the gifts, even once, as he went on and on about… what had he even been talking about? Shit, Emma was an awful date. Either way, he hadn’t brought them up once, so Emma was fairly certain she’d wasted an entire evening on a man she wasn’t interested in, when someone else had clearly been trying to give her hints.

Was Killian Jones her secret admirer after all?

~~

The following day, there was no gift waiting for her at her desk.

“So, you went on that date so now his work is done?” Mary Margaret asked.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Emma sighed. She sat down at her desk to start her day, already in a nasty mood. She felt like she’d screwed something up that she never really had to begin with. And suddenly, she was angry at Killian, too. Because if he’d just attached his name to the stupid gifts in the first place, she’d never have wasted an entire evening with Walsh.

“It was Killian, wasn’t it?” Mary Margaret leaned on her desk, chin in hand.

“What makes you think that?” Emma tried to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

“Well you had it narrowed down to two people, last you told me, since you ruled Ruby out.” Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Judging by your face, it wasn’t Walsh.”

“It certainly wasn’t.” Emma sighed. She wanted it to be Killian but it just… wasn’t possible.

“Why don’t you look happy about it being Killian? You’ve had a crush on him forever.” Mary Margaret was awful at whispering, and turned bright red in response to Emma’s glare.

“I have not had a crush because I’m not sixteen. I think he’s a good-looking guy with a really hot accent. That’s literally it.” Emma crossed her arms defiantly.

“Whatever you say, Emma. But I bet if you’d just admit you have a cr—feelings for Killian, he’ll admit it right back, and then you can go back to being my happy desk mate instead of the ogre you’re being today.” Mary Margaret smiled cheerily and headed towards the breakroom for her first coffee of the day.

After lunch, Emma was surprised to find a small stuffed teddy bear on her desk. The drawing attached wasn’t of her, but of her car. Next to it, the artist had written 1:15PM. She glanced at the clock: 1:12.

She nearly ran down the stairs and was less surprised than she should have been to find dark hair and a leather jacket, standing sheepishly beside her bright yellow bug.

“Hi,” she said as she approached him.

“Hey,” Killian scratched behind his ear. “You came.”

“You summoned me.” Emma held up the most recent sketch and smiled.

“I uh… I thought you’d gone out with Ozman last night.”

“I did,” she said as she wrinkled her nose. Killian laughed.

“That good, huh?”

“I thought maybe he was the one… leaving me gifts.” She held up the sketch again. “I was clearly mistaken.”

“That’s the only reason you went out with him? That poor man.” Killian laughed again. “Can I ask why you thought it was him?”

Emma told him about how she’d narrowed it down based on the angle of the sketch of her talking to Regina.

“I um… I didn’t think it could possibly be you, honestly.”

He looked surprised at that. “Why not?”

Emma rolled her eyes and then stared at the ground. This guy had been leaving her anonymous gifts all week. He’d drawn her not once, but three times. At least one of them was from memory. If she couldn’t admit to her feelings now, she never would.

“I’ve had kind of a crush on you for a while now, I guess.” The ground was just so interesting when admitting the truth out loud…

Killian took a step closer, so his feet were in her line of sight.

“Have you?” She’d expected to hear a bit of teasing in his voice, but he sounded genuinely surprised. She finally looked up at him.

“Yeah. I couldn’t imagine you had any type of feelings for me… we’ve never even had a real conversation.” She shook her head. “So I assumed it was Walsh.”

“And now that you know the truth?” There was the teasing, the grin, the classic Killian eyebrow raise.

“Now I’m pissed I wasted a perfectly good Wednesday night with the most boring man in the whole building!” she yelled, but she was laughing.

“Aye, well, I wasted the same evening stewing in my apartment about the fact that Ozman got to go on a date with you and I didn’t.”

“That why there was no gift for me this morning?” Emma asked. Killian nodded. “So why the teddy bear?”

“I may have overheard Mary Margaret attempting to whisper that you had feelings for me this morning.” He scratched behind his ear again. Emma felt her cheeks burning.

“You heard that? I’m going to kill her…”

“Relax, Swan, it got us out here, didn’t it?” He grabbed her hand. “Think you’d still want to go out with me even after your magical date with Ozman?”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He squeezed her hand, raising an eyebrow again. “What do you say?”

“Pick me up at 7.” Emma said simply, taking her hand back and walking as calmly as she could. Once she was out of Killian’s view, she ran up the stairs to tell Mary Margaret everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Two: 2/2: Revenge/Getting Back at an Ex  
> *un-betaed*

“ _Fuck_ Neal Gold,” Emma spat into the phone.

“Not that I disagree with you, love, but may I ask why?” Killian tried not to laugh.

Emma Swan had been dating Neal Gold for the better part of two years. Despite the fact that her best friend, Killian Jones, had been adamantly against it from the start. Neal was a spoiled, childish ass and Emma was… Emma.

Killian’s misgivings about Neal hadn’t had anything to do with the fact that he was in love with Emma. Not at first, anyway. As time went by, and he realized how strong his feelings for her were, his hatred for Neal grew and grew. Every time he bailed on her for “guys night” or nagged her for not having dinner ready when he got home from work, Killian’s blood boiled. And he knew about each and every one of those instances because Emma called him _every single time_.

He tried his best to avoid negativity in his life, but his feelings for Neal were the one exception.

“Just… he sucks. And I hate him.” Her anger dissipated and she was crying. _Shit_.

“I’m on my way, Swan.” Killian hung up the phone and climbed the three stories between his apartment and Emma’s. Neal had been crashing with her for six months or so, but he did technically still have a place of his own, so Killian was hoping he was gone.

The door opened before he even reached the landing, and there was Emma. Red-faced and teary-eyed, hair in a sloppy bun with pieces falling down all over. He pulled her into a hug and she sobbed against his chest. He slowly backed her into the apartment, not letting go, but knowing she wouldn’t want to be seen if one of the neighbors came up the stairs while she was crying. He gently led her to the couch in the living room, kicking the door shut behind him as they went.

“What happened? Last I heard, you two were…” Killian trailed off, leaving words like _blissful, happy, in love_ left unsaid.

“He _cheated_. The fucking bastard.” The anger was back now. “Apparently it’s been going on for weeks. Maybe even longer. She’s like, the daughter of some businessman his dad works with. They met through their parents and Neal ‘didn’t have the heart’ to break up with me.” She shook her head. “I hate him.”

 _Me too_ , Killian thought to himself. But Killian had hated Neal since they’d gone to high school together. Neal had been an ass then, too, and a bit of a bully. He’d never done anything to Killian himself, but he’d had enough of a reputation that Killian hated him anyway. That Neal had now broken Emma’s heart, after treating her like garbage for most of their relationship anyway, only increased Killian’s strong hatred for the man.

“We should get back at him,” Emma said suddenly, looking directly at Killian for the first time since he’d arrived. “Ruby’s having that party next week. We should go together. He’ll be so mad.”

Ruby Lucas was notorious for having parties that started off classy – 3-course meals, at least three wine options, and occasionally even a waitstaff if she could get the employees from her grandmother’s diner to do it for cheap – and ended up with half the guests passed out on the living room floor. Killian was sure her Valentine’s Day party would be no different. And while he wanted to be there to support Emma, and he’d _love_ to see the look on Neal’s face when they walked in the door together, he also didn’t want to watch Emma and Neal get wine-drunk and rekindle their romance.

“I don’t know, Swan. Maybe give it some time and he’ll—”

“Killian, I am _not_ getting back together with Neal. Not after this. I want him to feel the way I feel right now. And you were going to the party anyway, weren’t you?” Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, but she looked more alive than she had in… probably weeks, Killian realized.

“I wasn’t planning on it, actually,” he admitted. He found himself continuing without thinking. “But if you want me there—”

“Yes! Killian, I do. I mean, I did anyway, but now I positively _need_ you there.” She stood suddenly. She was plotting and pacing. “We’ll show up, holding hands, acting like we’re dating. I bet Neal brings this new bitch, too. I wonder if she knows I exist. Oh man, if she doesn’t… maybe she’ll dump his sorry ass, too. Wouldn’t that just be perfect?” She stopped her laps around the room and looked at Killian expectantly.

“Yep, perfect.” Killian couldn’t help but feel like he’d just signed up for a battle he wasn’t quite ready to fight.

~~

The night of the party, Killian was still unsure if this was the right move. But Emma looked incredible, wearing a skintight pink dress that she must have purchased post-breakup, because it looked brand spankin’ new.

Oh no, Killian could _not_ think about spanking while out with Emma Swan, pretending to date her. Nope.

He sighed as she grabbed his hand while he knocked on the door. He’d wanted Emma to hold his hand for years, but not as a prank to make someone else jealous…

“Hey you guys! I’m so glad you could make it!” Ruby embraced Emma as soon as she opened the door, and then froze as she noticed their hands, still intertwined. “Oh my God did you guys _finally_ —”

“No, we—”

“Yes!” Emma cut Killian off, squeezing his hand so hard that her nails dug into his flesh. “I know, Neal and I just broke up, but I’ve kind of had a thing for Killian forever. Seemed silly to wait, so here we are!” She held up their linked hands in a victorious motion. Killian forced a smile.

“Ugh, it’s about time!” Ruby hugged the two of them together. “You two have been making goo-goo eyes at each other for like, years.”

Killian turned his head to look at Emma as Ruby released them, allowing them entrance. He caught a blush forming on her cheeks before she shook her head, causing her hair to block his view.

Neal was surprisingly absent, leading Killian to wonder how much longer he’d have to put on the most painful charade of his life. She clutched his hand, sat in his lap, and clung to him like a life raft. After about an hour, Killian started ignoring the pang in his heart. Instead, he squeezed her hip and nuzzled her neck and purposely forgot that this was all an act to make someone jealous. Especially since that someone wasn’t even present to witness any of the over-the-top flirtations going on as Ruby refilled wine glasses over and over again.

Killian generally didn’t get wine drunk, but Ruby just kept bringing him more every time he finished a glass, and soon he was warm from the alcohol and from Emma Swan’s body pressed up against his just so. She was more sober than he was, and sitting up completely straight, mindlessly running a hand through his hair. She turned to look at him, a sparkle in her eye and a small smile on her face. And before he could talk himself out of it, Killian leaned forward to catch her lips in a kiss.

It was quick and chaste, but they may as well have had each other right there on the armchair they shared for the amount of stress he suddenly felt in his chest. There was tension in his shoulders and Emma’s hand had stopped moving. She was staring at him and he couldn’t read her expression—

And then she was kissing him. It was soft and slow, almost lazy. But she was smiling against his lips and his hands were creeping up her back. Her fingers were in his hair again, but where before they had combed, now they tugged. Killian was lost in the moment, in the wine, in _Emma Swan kissing him_.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

Neal.

The whole room – every couple who’d been snuggling on a separate piece of furniture, Ruby with her ever-present and seemingly endless bottle of wine, each and every person – stopped their conversation, their movement, everything on the spot. Everyone stared right at the newcomers: Neal and a girl no one had met before. Killian felt his hands curl into fists from beneath Emma’s shirt, and his jaw clenched as Emma’s eyes lost their sparkle and her lips turned downward.

“What I’m doing is none of your business,” Emma said flatly.

The girl Neal had brought was looking around the room in confusion.

“Neal, who is that?”

Oh dear, did the other woman not even know she was the other woman?

Emma seemed to come to the same realization, and a wicked smile formed on her face as she stood from Killian’s lap. He felt cold immediately, and wished she would come back. He found himself unable to move, mesmerized by whatever plan Emma had concocted so quickly.

“I’m his ex. We broke up a week ago. My name is Emma.” She was positively grinning now, no doubt waiting for everything to blow up in Neal’s face, just as she’d wanted from the start. Just as Neal deserved, really.

“Last week? No, Neal and I have been dating for almost three months.” The girl, who still hadn’t been introduced to anyone, shook her head in disbelief.

“Oh wow, he didn’t tell you? Yeah we were together for two years. He practically lived at my place.” Emma was shaking a bit and Killian reached forward to grab her hand. She couldn’t lose her nerve now. She surprised him by squeezing his hand once and then continuing to hold on.

“Tamara, don’t listen to—”

“Um, hi, did you forget that you’re in a room full of people who saw you with Emma at Christmas? And New Year’s? And literally every Tuesday for Trivia Night?” Ruby picked up an empty glass from the coffee table, filled it with wine, and handed it to the girl – Tamara, Neal had called her. “You’re welcome to stay, but he has to go.” She placed a hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow at Neal.

For his part, Neal looked completely shocked by the order of events that had occurred since he’d walked in the door. But Ruby would never let an innocent girl get hurt by a liar like Neal if she could help it, so Killian wasn’t remotely surprised. Tamara took the glass of wine and sat in one of the few empty seats left in the room.

“My dad probably won’t like this very much.” She took a sip and stared at Neal for a moment, considering. “If you leave right now, I _might_ not tell him that you lied to me for our entire relationship, and he _might_ not break off his business dealings with your father. Maybe.”

“This is—” Neal stopped himself when Tamara pulled out her phone with her free hand, never once taking her eyes from him. Her finger hovered over the screen, ready to make a call. Neal grumbled a bit, but saw himself out before he could dig himself an even deeper hole.

When he left, the entire party cheered and clapped. Ruby hugged Tamara, who looked like she might cry despite how tough she’d been to Neal’s face. Emma collapsed back on top of Killian’s legs.

“That was… well it was bloody brilliant, Emma.”

“It wasn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt that girl…” She was staring over at Tamara, who was downing her glass of wine while Ruby yammered on about what a loser Neal was.

“She had to find out, else she would have been even more hurt later. Just like you were.” He reached up and gently turned Emma’s face back towards him. She smiled. “Listen, Emma, about before. I was… we were…”

“Did you not like it?” She tilted her head.

“I didn’t say that.”

They stared each other down, a standoff to see who would speak first or move first or just fucking _do something already_ first. In the end, Emma won. She crashed her lips back into Killian’s, her nails scraping his scalp as she tugged at his hair again.

“I’ve wanted to do that for an embarrassingly long time,” she whispered against his shoulder when they finally pulled apart. She adjusted her body so she was curled up against him.

“Me too, Swan. Probably even longer.” He spoke into her hair.

“We could probably do it again sometime.” Her voice was muffled and strained, like she was falling asleep but wanted to get her thoughts out first.

“Yes, I’d like that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: Begin the story with a meet-cute  
> *un-betaed*
> 
> Also, guess who is a sucker for creating CS verses where they work in an office!!! (It's me)

Killian’s first day of work at Storybrooke Magazine, he drops the box he’s carrying, full of files and papers and various folders in an assortment of colors. He drops it because he’s gone around the corner too fast and crashed into one of his brand new co-workers.

He doesn’t see her face at first, instead focusing on the papers flying in every direction and trying to get them back into some semblance of order. He mutters several apologies to her shoes while she stands over him, watching. When he finally gets everything back into the box, he stands, and is stunned into silence.

Her blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail. She wears little makeup, just a bit around the eyes, bringing out their natural green color. Her black, no-nonsense pantsuit fits her perfectly, and Killian can’t help but admire her curves, despite the stern look on her face that tells him he’s already _royally_ pissed her off.

“Who are you?” she demands, eyebrow raised and hand on hip.

“Killian Jones, assistant editor for the sports and leisure section.” He grins, trying to charm her, and sets the box on the ground carefully before holding out his hand for a shake. She looks at his hand, then back at his face.

“First day?” She hasn’t moved, except that her head has tilted a bit, like she’s studying him.

“Yes,” he says simply, beginning to lose his nerve. He drops his hand slowly.

“Bit of advice? Watch where you’re going. And I saw you put some baseball stuff in that green folder. Baseball is red; football is green.”

Killian glances down at the box, which had once been beautifully organized but is now little more than a stack of random pieces of paper.

“Thanks,” he says. But when he looks back up, she’s already moving past him, onto her original destination.

A month later, Killian’s boss, Robin, is promoted, opening up the editor position for his department. He hasn’t been at the job long, but he’s the logical person to promote, as he’s been working directly alongside Robin for the entirety of his time at SM. He requests an interview for the spot and is granted one with no argument.

He’s sitting outside of Ruby’s office when the door opens and he hears _her_ voice. He hasn’t seen her since they slammed into each other on his first day, but he remembers that voice from the few words she spoke to him. He shakes his head, feeling ridiculous, and then looks up at the same time that she notices him sitting there.

“You’re interviewing for the editor spot?” she asks him, and he can’t read her expression or her tone.

“Yes. You?” He smiles at her, hoping to entice her into having an actual conversation this time.

“Yeah. I’ve been here almost a year. Assistant editor of the lifestyle section.” She wrinkles her nose and he can tell she’s unhappy with her department for one reason or another. “I’m trying to move up and over. Haven’t you only been here a month?” Her eyebrow raises again, just like it did when she asked if it was his first day. A perfect arch, full of judgement and a bit of amusement at Killian’s expense.

“Yes, but Robin and I worked closely—”

“No, it’s good that you’re putting your name up for promotions early. Shows you know what you want.” She nods her head once. “Good luck.”

His interview goes well, but Ruby tells him right away that Emma – so _that’s_ her name – will be offered the position due to her seniority and the large amount of work and dedication she’s already put into the magazine. He nods his head and tells Ruby that he hopes to be considered for future opportunities.

The following week, Emma takes over Robin’s position officially. She’s more upbeat than in their previous encounters, and brings several ideas to him throughout the day. She wants to change the department up a bit, stop focusing solely on the baseball and football and start focusing on the leisure aspect of their section of the magazine.

They’re working together late one night in December when Killian finally admits to himself that he’s got a crush on her. He’s been attracted to her since he first slammed into her in the hallways, but working so closely with her has wrecked him a bit. He thinks about her far too often – it’s unprofessional, he knows – and finds excuse after excuse to work with her on one project or another. There are Christmas lights hanging everywhere, reds and greens lighting up every hallway and conference room. They haven’t moved in a while, staring at the various articles and pages and interviews around them on the table, and the fluorescent office lights go out. They’re on a sensor, and they need movement to register the presence of a person in the room.

Killian groans and moves to stand, to alert the lights that they are, in fact, still there. But Emma grabs his arms and stops him.

“Leave them off. The Christmas lights are enough. It’s kind of nice.”

He leans back again and turns to look at her. It’s the first time he’s seen her without a crease in her brow. She’s always thinking, moving forward. But in this moment, she’s only living in the present. And the reds and greens light up her face in a way he’s never seen it before and Killian realizes he might be falling for his boss.

After the new year, Regina, the editor of the travel section, is promoted to co-managing editor. As soon as she’s made Robin’s equal, rather than his subordinate, they make their relationship official. They’re the only couple in the office that Killian knows of. He watches them banter and flirt, and he knows that he’ll never be able to be that way with Emma because she’s his boss. And also, he supposes, because she’s shown no interest whatsoever.

Not that he’s shown any either. He respects her too much for that. He thinks up innuendos and jokes and swallows them down. He resists the urge to wink and smirk and do all the things he normally does when he’s attracted to a woman. He doesn’t know if she’d fall for his usual games or not, but it doesn’t matter. He works beneath her – and there’s another innuendo he’ll have to force himself to forget – and he’d never want to make her uncomfortable.

“Are you interviewing for the editor spot?” Emma asks him one day. They haven’t filled Regina’s position yet, and her assistant, Mary Margaret, supposedly has her eye on a different department entirely. No one in-house has even interviewed for the job, and Ruby is trying desperately not to hire someone from the outside. She believes in promoting from within, because it helps the magazine flow more smoothly.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Killian responds. He’d thought about it, but travel wasn’t his specialty.

“You should,” she says simply, and leaves immediately.

He spends the rest of the day wondering if he’s made his feelings known, or made her uncomfortable in some other way. He loves working alongside her – feelings aside – but if she doesn’t want him to be her assistant editor, then he probably should move on to another department. He doesn’t want her to be unhappy.

He drops into Ruby’s office on his way out to request an interview. She nearly squeals from excitement, telling him to return to see her at 10 the following morning. He does, and she offers him the job on the spot.

“Emma brags about you constantly,” Ruby admits. “She’s going to be so pissed she’s losing you, but you deserve this promotion.”

“She’s the one who told me to ask for an interview,” Killian tells her. She doesn’t respond to that, just gets a strange look on her face and sends him on his way.

It’s nearly February by the time he officially moves over to the travel section. The contributors fill him in on things he’s unsure about, and things go smoothly considering he’s way out of his element. Mary Margaret is by his side constantly, making sure he’s making the right calls and organizing things properly. She admits she’s trying to move over to the lifestyle section to work with her boyfriend, David. He was given the assistant editor job after Emma’s promotion. Killian admits he’s surprised to learn there’s another couple in the office besides Robin and Regina.

“How would you transfer to his department? Wouldn’t one of you technically be above the other? Is that allowed?” He tries to stop himself from asking questions that shouldn’t matter to him, but they keep falling off of his tongue.

Mary Margaret smiles at him, looking as though she’s well aware of why he’s asking, despite the fact that they’ve only worked together for a week.

“There’s a lot more paperwork to fill out if you’re dating someone above you, yeah, but it’s allowed. Just frowned upon, I guess. I’ve been assistant editor for way longer than David, so if the editor spot opens up over there, I’m applying. He already knows.”

“Why didn’t he apply to be the editor of this department, then?”

“Truthfully, I think he just likes me being in charge of him.” She laughs, and then blushes, realizing what she’s said. Killian grins, attempting to make light of an awkward moment.

The first Monday of every month, the editors meet in the conference room with the managing editors and all of the higher-ups. It’s Killian’s first of these meetings, and the first time he’s seen Emma since leaving her department. He arrives early, knowing she used to do the same when he worked with her. He’s right, and she’s already started in on the donuts when he walks into the room.

“Killian!” Her mouth is full of powder and dough, and she looks embarrassed for a moment. She swallows, then smiles. There’s a bit of white left on her cheek and Killian reaches up to wipe it off before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Good to see you, Swan,” he tells her. She’s staring at him, and he wonders if he’s overstepped by touching her so intimately. There’s more powder on her lower lip but he doesn’t dare wipe that away for fear of making her more uncomfortable.

The room is decorated for Valentine’s Day. The red and green lights from Christmas have been replaced with bright pink hearts covered in silver sparkles.

“I miss you,” she admits, finally. “Sports and leisure sucks without you, actually.” She’s laughing and fixing a coffee. Killian watches her add two creams, one sugar. He’s thinking that that’s exactly how he takes _his_ coffee when she surprises him by turning and handing him the cup. He thanks her before responding.

“I miss you, too. Though travel isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“I’m glad you got the job,” she tells him, and she’s looking right into his eyes. She glances towards the clock, and Killian’s eyes follow hers.

**9:24AM**

They’ve got six minutes alone before the meeting begins. No other editors arrive early, Emma’s told him before. So Killian has six minutes to find a way to—

“We should go out,” Emma says suddenly. He doesn’t respond right away and her face changes before she adds, “to celebrate or something." Another pause. "We can invite…whoever.”

Killian tilts his head at her, unsure if he’s reading her correctly or not.

“We don’t have to invite anyone else,” he tells her. “I’d be happy to have a drink with you. Or dinner.”

She looks up at him, and her silence unnerves him. Perhaps she really was trying to get a group together for him? Maybe she isn’t interested. He should have known, shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. She glances at the clock one more time while he thinks.

She kisses him quickly, and she tastes like pure sugar from the donuts she’s undoubtedly been eating for the past fifteen minutes. He’s too shocked to respond at first, and she’s gone before he can. They stare at each other, unsure of what to do next.

He’s realizing the powder is gone from her lip just as she reaches up to wipe something from his. She drags her finger along his lower lip and then brings it to her mouth. Killian thinks about the hundreds of innuendos he’s wasted by not telling them to this woman. The way she’s licking her… no, there’s about to be far too many co-workers in the same room for him to be thinking about Emma Swan in any type of dirty scenario.

“Rabbit Hole. 7PM.” She says it quietly, just as the door opens and other editors begin filing in.

Killian wanders around the table, attempting to find the small table tent with the word _TRAVEL_ on it so he’ll know where to sit. He’s not surprised to find it directly next to _SPORTS & LEISURE_ and casually takes the seat to Emma’s right.

It’s a shame he has absolutely no idea what happens for the entirety of the meeting because Emma is drawing nonsense patterns on his leg under the table. It’s a shame he doesn’t offer up any fresh ideas in his very first editors’ meeting because he isn’t quite sure he remembers how to speak. It’s a shame that…

“It’s a shame it took us so long to get here,” Emma says at the Rabbit Hole later that night. “I’ve been thinking about you since the day you almost knocked me down with that box of papers.”

But Killian gets to kiss her goodnight and he gets to have roses delivered on Valentine’s Day, so it’s really not _that_ much of a shame at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Four: Buying Flowers  
> *un-betaed*

There’s a customer who comes into Emma Swan’s flower shop every week, like clockwork. Every Saturday, between eleven in the morning and two in the afternoon, he buys one flower. It’s different every time, but always something in a shade of red.

Every Saturday, Emma leads him around the shop, showing him bouquets and assortments and all of the options they offer. They spend about twenty minutes together, and then he chooses one sole flower and leaves.

Emma would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him. He’s all dark hair and brooding blue eyes and leather jacket, and he smells like pine trees and just a little bit of that Old Spice deodorant. He has a smooth voice and an English accent. She’s definitely tried to draw out their conversations on more than one occasion.

It’s an unspoken agreement that she doesn’t ask him what the flowers are for. She asked him once, the first time he came in, and he just sort of cocked his head at her silently. He obviously doesn’t want to share, which makes Emma think he’s leaving them on a grave or something equally sad.

They’ve gone on like this for the better part of a year. No matter what, Emma always does her best to be in the shop on Saturdays. She took off one week in July, and Mary Margaret said the man came in, looked around for her, and left without a word. Emma definitely finds that a bit strange, but she feels like he’s harmless, if a bit awkward, so she continues to work her regular weekend shifts and she continues to lead him around the store on twenty minute shopping trips. She shares random tidbits about her life or her week, and he nods and agrees and laughs, but never shares anything in return.

She feels a bit like they’re almost friends. Like he’s a person she could tell anything to, and he’d never judge her or spill her secrets. She wants him to share with her the way she has with him, but nothing she says ever gets him to talk.

February comes and the man – Emma’s only just realizing that she never even got his name – stops coming in. It’s been a year since his first visit, so Emma supposes he was just doing something for a year and now he’s stopped and he’ll never come back.

“That’s not true, Emma.” Mary Margaret tells her, a worried look on her face. “Something must have happened. He’s never missed a date before.”

“They’re not dates, Mary Margaret,” Emma laughs. Her best friend and co-owner of the shop has been calling the stranger’s visits ‘dates’ since April. She says they go the scenic route throughout the store, chat about their lives, and it ends in the purchase of a flower. All of the ingredients of a very romantic date. Emma reminds her that the man is a customer, purchasing flowers. That the shop doesn’t have a scenic route. That _Emma_ certainly does some sharing, but the man hardly talks at all.

But Mary Margaret won’t be deterred. She insists that the man keeps coming back because he loves their dates and has a crush on Emma.

“Well, something must have happened to keep him away. He’s never missed one in an entire year!” Ever the optimistic one, Mary Margaret believes that Emma deserves a happy ending more than anyone, and she seems to think that the strange customer is it.

It certainly doesn’t help that Emma talks about him constantly. Not that there’s much to tell, but she’s getting to know his body language pretty well. He scrunches up his nose a bit when they walk past particularly fragrant flowers. He raises his right eyebrow when he thinks she’s trying to get him to buy something he doesn’t need – a full bouquet or a small balloon to go with his purchase. His eyes always light up when he finds the perfect flower for the day, both eyebrows rising up his forehead and a smile forming on his face.

Emma leaves that day, the first Saturday without him in a year, in a prickly mood. She’s not sure why he’s affecting her this way, but she wishes it would stop. She hardly even knows the man, really. Besides, Mary Margaret and her husband, David, are the only people she needs in life. She’s gotten this far without a man, so she definitely doesn’t need one now.

She goes home to her apartment and heats up a frozen dinner to eat in front of the television. She feels largely unsatisfied by the food and by her entertainment options. With a deep sigh, she goes to bed early.

The week passes slowly, and Emma can’t seem to get the stranger out of her mind. She tells herself she’s just worried about him, since he’s never missed a Saturday before. Has something happened to him? Is he okay?

Finally, Saturday comes again. She looks up every time the bell over the door jingles, and tries to hide her disappointment at the assortment of customers that enters that are not her favorite stranger. Mary Margaret clucks her tongue, noticing Emma’s frown and giving her a knowing look.

“He’ll be back. I know it.”

But Emma is used to disappointment, so she’s not expecting this man to be any different. It’s her own fault, really, for allowing herself to get used to someone in her life. For allowing herself to let him in, for sharing things with him and getting comfortable.

Two o’clock rolls around and Emma’s shoulders droop, much as she wills them not to. She’s downright sad, she finally admits to herself. She’s told this man such deep things about herself, feeling comfortable enough, for one reason or another, to do so. She’s told him about her foster care past, about her one heartbreak, about how Mary Margaret and David helped her get back on her feet after the large disaster that was Neal Gold. It came up naturally, throughout the year he came in, as different flowers reminded her of different stories.

These tulips were the same as the ones Neal stole for her from a convenience store one day.

Those daffodils were the same color as the car they’d stolen.

There are stories in the flowers, and she’s shared almost all of them with a man who seems to have let her down, just like everyone else.

She’s about to close up when the bell above the door jingles again.

“Sorry, we’re—” she stops short, because of course it’s him. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running, eyes wild and mouth hanging open in an ‘o’.

“Hi,” he breathes. He still hasn’t moved, he’s just standing in the doorway, holding some sort of book, chest heaving like he can’t seem to catch his breath.

“Hi,” she manages. She’s got the cash from the register in her hand, ready to be counted, and she slowly puts it back down and locks the drawer back up. “I, um… I thought maybe you weren’t coming back.”

He tilts his head at her and his forehead creases as his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I love coming here on Saturdays,” he tells her. He says it as though she should already know this, as though is a fact she should have learned ages ago, and he can’t believe he’s only teaching it to her now for the first time.

“Last week…” Emma blushes as she realizes how ridiculous she sounds. He’s a stranger, really, and his absence shocked her far too much. His presence, now, might be even worse, actually. She wants to hug him, even though they’ve never so much as touched, aside from a grazed hand here and there, while exchanging flowers for money. He placed his hand on her hip once, for balance, when he tried to reach a flower he couldn’t quite get to. She thought about it for ages afterwards, embarrassed to even tell Mary Margaret it had happened.

He’s been a regular _thing_ in her life for so long, and she’s grown used to him. She was undeniably despondent when she thought he was gone.

“I was… I was busy. Last week. I’m sorry you thought I wasn’t coming back.” He finally steps into the shop now, and Emma comes around from behind the counter to lock the door.

“Closed,” she says with a shrug. She’s also hoping that locking the door will mean there will be no interruptions to whatever he’s come here for. The air is thick with tension and she feels like something big is happening. He ran here, at the very least, to get to the shop before closing time.

“I have a gift for you. To thank you for helping me so much.” He hands her the book he brought in. She stares at it for a moment, then glances back at his face before taking it. He looks nervous and she might be shaking a bit herself.

The book feels heavy and the pages look spread out somehow, as though the whole thing isn’t closed properly.

She flips it open and gasps. Each page contains a pressed flower. They’re all red, and there are small notes beside them all.

_The girl who owns the flower shop is stunning._

_She told me about her last romance today – I don’t know if she believes in love anymore after that._

_I almost asked her on a date today, but another customer came in and I lost my nerve._

_She’s so beautiful and kind…_

_I heard her co-worker call her ‘Emma’ today, so I finally have a name for the face._

_These pages are filling up, what do I do when this is over?_

Emma looks up at him, and he’s biting his lip. She wonders if she’d be weirded out by the book if she hadn’t been thinking about him in the same way. If some random customer handed her a log of their interactions, she might be concerned or scared. But she’s been thinking about him constantly for the past year, so it feels a bit like fate or something larger than coincidence that he’s been thinking about her, too.

“I understand if you never want me to come back. I actually… never planned to give this to you.” He’s rambling, and it’s more than he’s spoken in the entire time Emma’s known him. “It’s just… I came in here to buy a flower to start pressing them like this, and I found myself keeping notes so I wouldn’t forget a single detail. I could never tell if you were interested in me or if you were just… you know, doing your job. You told me so many things, and I never got up the courage to share anything with you, so I thought maybe this book would…”

She’s smiling now, and he seems confused by it so he stops himself. She holds out her hand.

“I think it’s time we formally introduced ourselves. I’m Emma.”

“Killian,” he tells her, and she’s never been so attracted to a _name_ before. They shake hands, but neither of them lets go, just allowing their hands to hang between them awkwardly.

“Can you give me, like, ten minutes to close up, and then we’ll go somewhere and get to know each other like normal people?”

He smiles at her, and then a look of surprise takes over his face suddenly.

“Today?”

“Is that a problem?” Emma tries not to act worried, but she’s unsure how asking to go somewhere and talk when he’s just done this big romantic thing is a _bad thing_.

“Well, it’s just… today’s…” He glances towards the calendar on the wall.

Valentine’s Day.

She’d known it was coming – the shop has been busy all week, non-stop orders and restocking of roses and hand cramps from writing out romantic notes to other people’s significant others – but she hadn’t realized it was _today_.

“Oh. I mean, if you don’t want to—”

“I do. I just wasn’t sure if you would—”

“I do.”

“Okay then.” He – _Killian_ , she thinks to herself – smiles, and she holds the book close as she crosses the shop to put it with her belongings. She counts the money and writes out the closing notes for the morning staff to read. She closes the blinds and checks all of the temperatures and it takes her half the time it normally does because there’s some sort of skip in her step.

They leave together and she locks up before taking a deep breath and turning around to join him on the sidewalk. He offers her his arm and she takes it, and before she knows it, he’s telling her all the things she’s waited an entire year to learn. His past, rocky and distorted and unfair, is alarmingly similar to hers, and she thinks again about fate and coincidence. At any rate, something’s brought them together, and Emma’s quite happy to spend a cheesy romantic holiday with an attractive English stranger who seems keen to tell her everything and learn anything she wants to share.

“I have a question,” she asks him when they leave the restaurant to go their separate ways. They’ve exchanged phone numbers and have planned out a minimum of three more dates – “you’ve never been to the museum in the city with the giant heart? Killian, we _have_ to go!”. Emma is feeling a small bubble of hope expanding in her chest and she already knows Mary Margaret is going to hold this over her head for the rest of eternity.

“What’s that?” He’s rubbing her arms to warm her up in the February chill.

“Why red?”

He laughs at first, and she thinks there must be some crazy story behind his choice in flower color.

“It was the color of your jacket,” he tells her. “I assumed it was your favorite, and it just sort of… stuck.”

It’s quite possibly more romantic than the book. Emma is thrown off, truth be told, because that’s such a small thing but it’s also sort of big and meaningful that he’d purchased over fifty unique flowers in various shades of red, all because he thought it was her favorite color.

“It’s green, actually,” she admits to him, and she sort of expects him to look crestfallen and she’s ready to reassure him. He surprises her once again by grinning at her.

“I guess we’ll need to find some green flowers for the next book, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The museum in the city with the giant heart" is referring to the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Five: A Valentine's Proposal  
> *un-betaed*  
> One day late, sorry!!!

It was probably crazy to propose on Valentine’s Day. Killian _knew_ this, but he still planned to do it anyway. The problem was figuring out _how_.

He knew Emma wouldn’t want a public proposal – no ring in the champagne or the dessert at the restaurant, then. So after dinner, they’d take a walk…

No, it was February. They’d freeze.

His mind raced through all of the ideas he’d seen on television and in movies. Carriage rides and Ferris wheels and secret plans involving all of her friends. He thought about scavenger hunts – or would it be a treasure hunt, since she’d be following the clues to one prize?

This was getting ridiculous.

He’d had the ring for months, but couldn’t figure out the perfect way to pop the question and just get it on Emma’s finger already. He knew she’d say yes – they’d talked about marriage and a future together when they’d signed the lease to their first apartment. But actually _doing it_ , taking that step, was still absolutely terrifying.

The ring was burning a hole in his pocket when she came home from work on Valentine’s Day. He still hadn’t figured it out, and hoped maybe it would just come to him in the moment.

It had been a spur of the moment decision to ask her to date him in the first place. And the first time he’d said ‘I love you’, it had practically fallen out of his mouth. They’d never had conventional romantic moments. Maybe he was putting too much pressure on himself.

“Cancel all your plans for us tonight,” Emma said as soon as she shut the door behind her.

“I’m sorry?” Killian had been relaxing on the love seat, nearly asleep, but now he sat upright.  Surely he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“Cancel everything.” She was still around the corner from him, and he couldn’t see her face. He couldn’t tell if they were cancelling their plans because he’d done something wrong or because she had something entirely different, and perhaps private, planned for them.

“Am I allowed to ask why?”

“Nope.” She didn’t even come into the living room to say hello, just walked straight to their bedroom and shut the door.

Had he royally fucked something up without even knowing?

He opened his phone to the OpenTable app, cancelling their reservation for the evening. He still hadn’t moved from the loveseat, unsure if he should be banging on the door to his own bedroom to make sure everything was okay.

Just as he began getting lost in his own headspace, wondering what he could have done to mess things up so suddenly, the bedroom door opened. She was still barefoot, but she carried her black strappy heels on one finger when she entered the living room. She wore a white lacy dress with a red sash around the waist. He’d never seen it before, but thought little of it except to marvel at how she looked in white. As if it had been summoned by the very thought, the ring nearly fell out of his pocket as he stood.

“Swan, you look…”

“I know,” she smirked at him, sitting down to maneuver her feet into the contraptions she called shoes. “Go put on that black dress shirt and I picked a tie that matches the sash.”

She was smiling, at least, so he hadn’t screwed anything up. Still, he wondered what could have come up so suddenly that he had to cancel their dinner reservations. Especially since they were clearly still going _somewhere_.

Once he was dressed, Emma practically dragged him out the door, one of his dress shoes still untied. She led him to her yellow bug – “Can’t we take my car, at least, since you’ve clearly done all of the planning? Let me do _something_ , Emma!” “No!” – and they were off.

They drove for what felt like forever, and Killian had absolutely no clue where they were headed. They were going south, he knew, but Emma wouldn’t tell him what the final destination was, and the possibilities seemed endless.

She finally got off at an exit in New Jersey, and the billboards all around him told him that they were nearing Atlantic City.

Was she taking him _gambling_ for Valentine’s Day?

She parked in a garage attached to one of the casinos and led him to the elevators. She’d barely said a word to him for the entire drive, but she was smiling like a fool, so he’d stopped asking and just watched her. Her smile was growing without the road to focus on, and Killian simply took her hand and let her take him along for whatever ride she was going on.

They walked towards the beach and as soon as they hit the sand, Killian lifted Emma into his arms.

“Killian, you don’t have to—”

“Hush, Swan, your ridiculous shoes won’t last three steps on the sand.”

“I can always just take them off.”

“You could also tell me what we’re doing here.” They stared each other down. Her arms were thrown around his neck as he held her.

“Let’s get married,” she said so suddenly he nearly dropped her.

“What?” It came out much more high-pitched than he’d intended, and he really wished he could take it back and make his voice _normal_ for what was clearly a very important moment.

“There’s, like, quick chapels here just like Vegas. Let’s just do it. I’m tired of not being married to you.” She was looking right into his eyes, looking every bit as nervous as he’d felt thinking about the ring in his pocket. Suddenly, Killian couldn’t help but laugh. He placed Emma down carefully, gripping her waist still, though he wasn’t sure if he was helping keep her balanced or keeping _himself_ upright.

She was looking at him like he was positively insane. And maybe he was. The love of his life had just suggested that they get married in Atlantic City – away from all of their friends and the pressures of their lives; the perfect wedding for them. And here he was, laughing hysterically as though she’d just suggested they get married on the moon. Emma was beginning to look worried, and he quickly pulled himself together and reached into his pocket, revealing the black box.

“It’s just… I had similar ideas for our Valentine’s Day, Swan.”

And then she was laughing, too, because of course they were trying to out-do each other romantically, without even knowing it. Of course their heads were in the same place, nervous about what the other might think. It was par for the course, really.

She held out her left hand, still giggling with tears falling from her eyes.

“You’d better get on with it, then. I’m freezing out here and we need to find a chapel.”

Killian knew he didn’t have to be traditional at this point – nothing traditional about proposing after your girlfriend has already suggested you get married – but Emma deserved it. She deserved the memory of someone down on one knee, professing their love, holding out a ring picked out just for her.

So he knelt down in the sand and opened up the box he’d been carrying around for ages.

“Emma, from the moment I met you, I was smitten. Soon after, I was fairly certain you were it for me – The One, True Love, all that. Now, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Being with you has been the best part of my life, and I hope you feel for me even a fraction of the love I feel for you. We’ve never been traditional about anything, so why start now? Let’s get married, Swan.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Six: Blind Date/Online Dating  
> *un-betaed*

“He fucking stood me up,” Emma whispered into her phone. She was at a very public bar, and while most people were seated at tables, coupled up with a glass of champagne in between them, she was flying solo on a barstool. “That’s the third time this month.”

“To be fair, the other two didn’t stand you up, they just…” Mary Margaret trailed off, knowing she wasn’t really helping.

“They ghosted. I hate that term, but that’s exactly what they did. I hate online dating,” Emma grumbled.

“I’ve offered to—”

“No, you’re not setting me up with one of your co-workers, or one of David’s. I don’t need to be set up.” Emma crossed her arms, cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, showing defiance despite the fact that Mary Margaret couldn’t even see her, and the bartender was looking at her like she was a bit too drunk already.

“Aren’t you sort of setting yourself up with all these dating apps?” Mary Margaret countered, and Emma could picture her best friend crossing her arms right back.

“Setting myself up for disappointment, maybe.”

Mary Margaret sighed. “I really am sorry, Ems. You don’t deserve the way these guys are treating you. Dating these days is… it’s not fun.”

Emma softened a bit.

“I’m gonna finish this beer and head home. Happy Valentine’s Day, Mary Margaret. Tell David I said the same.”

“You know he threatens to beat up these men every single time, right?”

Emma laughed at that. David was a cop, and a good one, and he’d never _really_ run around defending her honor by punching people, but it was a pretty interesting mental picture.

“Yeah, tell him I’ll be okay. I always am.”

They hung up and Emma stared at her nearly full glass of beer. She sighed and took a large sip, deciding not to chug the whole thing in one go and head home.

“Drinking alone?” a voice came from beside her. She turned and was shocked to find an incredibly good looking man beside her. She was about to respond when his face fell. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m supposed to be meeting someone and I thought… but you’re not her.”

 _Great_ , Emma thought. Approached by a hot guy at a bar on Valentine’s Day and he’s not even looking to flirt with her. She felt a blush crawl up her cheeks as she realized just how disappointed she was. The man smiled at her.

“But I’m sure you’re waiting for someone as well. Date night or something?”

Emma took another large sip of beer before responding.

“Stood up, actually.” She shrugged and offered him an awkward smile. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Who the hell would stand _you_ up?” he asked, and then seemed to realize he was flirting with someone while waiting for someone else. “I just mean… you’re bloody gorgeous. He’s a fool, whoever he is.”

“Well thank you. Whoever you’re waiting for is… very lucky, I’m sure.”

He smiled and glanced at his phone, then back at her.

“We’ll see if she shows. She’s already fifteen minutes late. Some first date, eh?”

Emma _really_ shouldn’t be hoping for someone else to be stood up, for someone else to feel the anger and pain she’d been feeling when she called Mary Margaret only a few minutes ago. But she didn’t care. She found herself hoping that whatever girl this guy was waiting for was a total moron who’d decided not to come.

“It was probably silly to plan a first date on Valentine’s Day,” Emma said. “For both of us, I mean.”

“Aye, you’re probably right.” The man looked around at the cozy couples around the restaurant, then turned towards the drink selection behind the bar. He ordered a glass of some expensive rum Emma had never heard of, then raised his glass towards her. “To romance. Or lack thereof.”

She clinked her glass with his.

“I’m Killian, by the way.” He held out his free hand and she took it, marveling at his calloused fingers and his strong grip.

 _Chill, girl, he’s still a stranger_ , she told herself.

“Emma,” she told him before reluctantly letting go.

“So, how’d you meet this mystery man who’s crazy enough to not show up on a date with one of the most—with you?” Killian raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Tinder.” The blush was returning. Emma _hated_ telling people she used Tinder – it felt like everyone thought she just wanted to get laid. But she just didn’t know how to meet people. Really. Most people laughed when she told them, going on to say that she should have _expected_ to be treated so poorly if that was how she was meeting her men. As though using an app to meet people quickly was an excuse for not respecting one’s fellow humans. Killian, however, didn’t laugh. He waited for more. “We started talking like a week ago. I work a lot, and he travels a lot, so this just happened to be a day we were both free. I didn’t even realize it was Valentine’s Day until this morning.”

“Let me see him. I bet he has a big nose or a bald spot or something.”

Emma pulled out her phone and opened the Tinder app. There he was, in all his glory. Neal Cassidy.

“I know him,” Killian said as soon as Emma handed over the phone. “His name’s not Neal.”

“Excuse me?” The guy was using a fake name?

“Yeah, his name’s Graham. He works with me at the station.”

The station.

Something was beginning to click in Emma’s brain, but she hadn’t quite figured out all of the pieces to the puzzle yet.

“The _police_ station?” she asked.

“Yeah, Storybrooke’s finest.” Killian rolled his eyes at his own title.

"Were you meeting someone from Tinder, too?" she asked. Killian nodded. “Let me see the girl.”

He looked at bit surprised at her tone, clipped and biting, but handed over his phone anyway.

Milah Gold, the profile read.

“This is my friend Ashley,” Emma told Killian. He frowned, grabbing the phone back from her.

“She said—”

“Killian, do you know all of the cops at your precinct?”

“For the most part.”

“So you know David Nolan.”

Killian smiled at the name. “One of my best friends, actually. You know him?”

“Well, I knew him anyway. He’s as good as dead now.” She slammed some bills onto the bar and stormed out of the restaurant. She pulled up Mary Margaret’s contact information in her phone and pressed the call button, just as a confused Killian caught up with her.

“That was pretty quick,” Mary Margaret said as she answered. “I thought it would have taken _way_ longer.”

“I fucking hate you.” Emma knew as she said it that it wasn’t true.

“I know it sucked thinking you got ditched again but… you wouldn’t let me set you up. Killian’s so sweet and he’s had some rough luck with love, too, and I just thought…” she trailed off. Emma sighed.

“You meant well. I get it. But don’t… don’t do it again, okay?” She took a deep breath. “It really sucked. And now I feel all weird and pathetic, like I can’t even just find my own dates—”

“Emma, hang up the phone.” Killian was in front of her now. She’d nearly forgotten about him, tears welling up in her eyes while she spoke to Mary Margaret. Embarrassed, she mumbled something about calling her friend later, clicking the ‘End Call’ button. “So, our friends made fake Tinder profiles, then got both of us to agree to date the fake people on the same day at the same place, just to get the two of us to go on a date? Am I all caught up now?”

“Pretty much,” Emma sniffled. She’d been caught off guard by the whole thing and was feeling a bit silly about how emotional she was getting.

“Sounds like we’re both stubborn asses who won’t just let our friends help us?” He was rubbing her arms, and she hadn’t even realized she was cold. “Glad to know it’s not just me.”

She laughed, but she still wasn’t looking at him, preferring to stare at the ground or his shoes or anything else in the entire world besides his face, probably full of pity.

“Well, we’re already here,” Killian continued. He let go of one of her arms and she instantly felt colder, until his hand gripped her chin and brought her face back up, forcing her to look at him. There was no pity there, but maybe a bit of the same sadness she felt, and certainly some loneliness, and maybe just a tiny ounce of hope. “What do you say we make the most of it? Dinner?”

She didn’t think, just nodded her head and let him lead her back inside.

Two hours later, in the back seat of a cab, Emma watched Killian delete the Tinder app from his phone while he thought she wasn’t looking. Her head was on his shoulder, her eyes nearly shut, and he must have thought he was being sneaky.

Emma pulled out her phone and placed an online order for flowers to be delivered to the Nolans’ doorstep in the morning. Killian, who must have been watching her, chuckled and kissed the top of her head, before reaching over and pressing the button to add a box of chocolates to the order as well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Seven: Last Minute Wedding Date  
> *un-betaed*  
> (I twisted the prompt a bit - hope you all enjoy!)

“Come on, Emma, it’ll be fun!”

“Crashing a wedding does _not_ sound like my idea of fun, Ruby.”

They’d been going back and forth for weeks. Ruby Lucas was one of Emma’s closest friends, and she lived on the other side of the country. She wanted to spend her _one weekend_ in town crashing every wedding they could reach. Her arguments ranged from “No one will even know!” to “You never know who you’ll meet!” and finally, to “Don’t you want me to be happy when I visit home?”

“Of course I want you to be happy, Ruby,” Emma had rolled her eyes, willing the action to be visible through the phone. “But I also don’t want to embarrass myself or get in trouble. I’m a sheriff’s deputy, I can’t just go around crashing weddings! And Storybrooke is a small town! Chances of someone recognizing us are pretty high.”

“First of all,” Emma could picture Ruby counting out her arguments on long, freshly painted red nails, “You’re the deputy to your _dad_ , so I’m not sure if you really need to worry about making a good impression on your boss. Second, we can’t get in trouble, we’re just…sitting there! And third, we can go somewhere outside of Storybrooke!”

“Isn’t the whole point of this to have fun while you’re _home_? Storybrooke is your home. Where else would we even go?”

“It’s like an hour from Boston, we can go crash weddings there! Besides, anybody doing something as cheesy as getting married on Cupid’s birthday _deserves_ to have their wedding crashed.”

By the time Ruby’s plane landed and she’d buckled herself into Emma’s yellow bug at the airport, Emma knew Ruby had won. If she was being honest with herself, she’d known Ruby had won from the moment the idea came up.

One way or another, Ruby Lucas pretty much always got what she wanted. She was persuasive and stubborn and Emma loved that about her. She did _not_ love this idea, but away they went to Boston in their classiest dresses and highest heels, hellbent on crashing as many weddings as they could.

The first wedding was a snooze-fest – some old man marrying a much, much younger woman. They sat on the bride’s side, but not enough people were there for them to blend in, so they left as quickly as they could.

The second was in a foreign language, but the bride looked positively gorgeous and Emma couldn’t help but tear up a bit at the way the couple looked at each other. No one had ever looked at her with that much adoration and positivity and downright _love_ and it made her just a tad bit jealous. But the ceremony was still beautiful and they even snuck into the reception for a bit, until everyone started dancing in some insanely choreographed movements that Emma and Ruby couldn’t fake, and they had to scurry out the back door.

Ruby was practically dragging Emma by this point. Emma’s feet were tired, her legs were tired, and she was pretty sure even her _hair_ was tired from holding onto its princess curls all day. She just wanted to go home and crawl into bed. But Ruby insisted this would be the very last one, so she relented.

While Ruby went to find seats, Emma ran to the restroom. She made a wrong turn somewhere within the apparently massive church and ended up just a little bit lost. She was wandering around, trying to find something remotely familiar to get her back onto the right path when she saw an unfairly attractive man walking towards her.

“Are you lost?” he asked, grinning. He wore a midnight blue vest under his suit jacket and somehow it made his eyes look unnaturally blue. He looked a bit scruffy considering the event – didn’t most people either grow their beard out nicely or shave it clean off for a wedding? But it worked for him regardless. Emma realized she was staring and that she still hadn’t answered his question.

“Um, a bit. I was just looking for the restroom.” She was much more nervous than she should have been. She told herself it was just because she was a crasher and she didn’t want this man to figure her out.

“Well you’ve gone a bit far, lass. You’ll want to go down this hallway,” he placed an arm around her shoulders to guide her, using his other hand to point back in the direction she’d come from. “Go left at the end, and it’ll be on your right. Then keep heading down that same hall and you’ll find your way back to where you’re supposed to be.”

 _I’m supposed to be back home in Storybrooke, not at some stranger’s wedding_ , Emma thought to herself, but she nodded politely at the man. She reluctantly moved away from his grasp.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, trying not to look at him too much. What if he was the groom, and she was just out here ogling him?

“Perhaps,” he began, and the flirtatious tone in his voice caused her to finally glance in his direction. She _really_ hoped he wasn’t the groom. He had one eyebrow raised and he took a small step towards her, closing the distance between them she’d just created. “Gratitude is in order now,” he finished, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he looked her up and down.

She rolled her eyes, because apparently all men were exactly the same.

“Yeah, that’s what the thank you was for,” she crossed her arms, realizing belatedly that the action caused her cleavage to become just a bit more exposed. The man in front of her glanced down quickly, but brought his gaze back up to her face.

“Save me a dance, at least?” He bit his lip in anticipation of her response.

“Sure,” Emma answered. She wouldn’t even be at the reception, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Killian Jones,” he held his hand out suddenly. “In case you need to ask around for me later,” he said with a wink.

Her eyes rolled again of their own accord, but she shook his hand anyway.

“Emma Swan,” she told him before turning and walking away to find the restrooms she’d been in search of in the first place.

When she finally found Ruby, sitting in one of the last pews on the bride’s side, she was still reeling from the short interaction she’d had with Killian.

“Woah, girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Or a super hot guy. You’re all flushed. Oh my God, did you make out with someone in a closet? I’ve always wanted to make out with someone at a wedding. Somewhere secret… Tell me what happened!”

“Nothing happened! At all. I got lost looking for the bathroom so it took a little longer than expected. That’s it,” Emma gave her friend a look that told her to drop it. Ruby huffed and crossed her arms, but left the subject alone for the time being.

But when Killian walked down the aisle in the middle of a small line of groomsmen, Emma’s blush returned and she let out a small gasp. Ruby picked up on it immediately and smacked her arm.

“Is that him?” she whispered. “Did you make out with him?”

“No, Ruby, hush!” Emma whispered back, but it must have been too loud, because at least three of the men walking by turned to look at them, Killian included. When he saw her, he grinned and winked before continuing on his path towards the front of the church. Emma slipped down into her seat, knowing full well she’d never convince Ruby that nothing had happened, even though it was the truth.

“Holy shit, Emma, you _did_!” Ruby smacked her arm.

“I really didn’t. I got lost and he gave me directions back to the restroom. That’s really all.”

“We have to go to the reception now. You’ve gotta make out with him again.”

“We didn’t make out!” Emma whisper-yelled at her friend. She really didn’t want to draw any more unnecessary attention to herself, but Ruby was making her crazy.

“Mmhmm. Well then we’ve gotta go so you can make out with him the first time,” Ruby rolled her eyes, still unwilling to believe Emma’s truth.

The wedding was beautiful, with all eyes on the bride, a dark-haired woman with a brazen look in her eye. Emma was both terrified of and intrigued by her immediately. She almost wished she actually knew her, that she wasn’t just crashing her wedding. And the woman didn’t seem like she’d take kindly to crashers.

Emma let out a deep sigh. She _really_ didn’t want to sneak into the reception, but after the look Killian had given her, she knew Ruby would never let her get out of it.

When he made his way back up the aisle, a small blonde gripping his elbow tightly, he seemed to be searching for something, brows furrowed and eyes roaming the pews. His eyes met Emma’s, and he grinned again, mouthing something at her. She cocked her head, not understanding.

 _See you on the dance floor_ , he mouthed again.

Oh God.

Ruby listened to the rest of the crowd as they left the church, trying to hear someone say where the reception would be.

“Some place called the Rabbit Hole,” she reported back to Emma, as though it would mean anything to her. “Apparently it’s where the bride and groom met for the first time.”

“Sounds very romantic,” Emma replied sarcastically.

“Well, they did get married on Valentine’s Day. That’s… something.”

“You said that was cheesy,” Emma poked Ruby in the side.

“It is! But it’s also kind of sweet.”

Emma allowed herself to be dragged down the sidewalks of Boston until they found the place. It was a large bar that had been nearly cleared of tables. There were a few round ones around the perimeter of the room, but the entire center was empty, clearly intended to be a dance floor. The bar-top was covered in a variety of snacks, and Emma was pleased to discover that there was, at least, an open bar.

The wedding party hadn’t arrived yet, so Emma tried to make herself become invisible, sitting down at a table in the corner while Ruby disappeared into the crowd.

A DJ was playing music but no one was dancing yet, so Emma munched on some pretzel bites while she waited. She was on her second drink when the music changed suddenly.

“Our guests of honor have arrived!” the DJ announced. He rattled off the names of bridesmaids and groomsmen, and Emma laughed as they each came in doing some ridiculous stunt – spins and twirls and piggyback rides. Killian dipped his partner, a woman named Tina, as low as he could, but his eyes weren’t on her. They were scanning the crowd, searching once again. He brought Tina back up to his side, looking frustrated behind the smile on his face.

Deciding that she suddenly needed a refill, Emma headed to the bar. She may have seen Killian heading in that direction as well, but that definitely had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

She swore she felt the air in the room change the moment he spotted her. She saw him out of the corner of her eyes, pretended not to notice. But something shifted, and he pushed off his spot at the bar, making his way to her.

“So, you know Regina?” he asked her by way of greeting.

“Who?” she asked, before realizing that Regina was _probably_ someone at the wedding. Killian raised an eyebrow.

“The bride? You were seated on her side at the ceremony. I assumed…” Emma practically watched the pieces click together in his head. “You don’t know anyone here, do you?”

“I know someone here,” Emma insisted.

“The brunette you were sitting with who’s been flirting with ever member of the wedding party doesn’t count.” His tone was accusatory, but he was grinning and his eyes were filled with mischief. “Don’t worry, Swan, I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

Emma felt her blush returning and she desperately hoped that wherever Ruby was, she wasn’t seeing this interaction.

“In fact, I had a plus-one I didn’t use. So now you’re officially my date. There, no need for hiding anymore, eh?” He winked. “Plus, you do still owe me that dance.”

Emma shook her head.

“I uh… I don’t dance. I don’t know how.”

Killian took her arm and gently led her towards the empty dance floor as a soft, slow song came on.

“There’s only one rule,” he said softly, wrapping one arm around her waist and taking her hand in his. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma didn’t respond, just let Killian lead her around the floor as more couples joined them. Their space became limited as the dance floor filled up. Before she knew it, they were beside the bride and groom.

“Who’s this, Jones?” the groom asked Killian without taking his eyes off of his wife.

“This is Emma, my date. She didn’t confirm until the last minute. Sorry I forgot to tell you.” Killian threw a wink in Emma’s direction. The groom, whose name Emma still hadn’t caught, seemed to accept the answer, but Regina raised an eyebrow.

“Seems a bit rude to wait until the last minute, don’t you think?”

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Killian stopped her.

“I only asked her last week. We’ve only just met, you see. Asking her was sort of a risk. This is basically our first date.”

Regina didn’t look fully convinced, but nodded once, turning back to her husband.

“Thanks,” Emma whispered. “Again.”

“Of course, milady.” Killian released her for a moment to bend in a small bow, then caught her waist again.

“So, first date, huh?” Emma bit her lip.

“Seemed easier to ask you on a second one that way,” he brought their bodies a bit closer together.

“You’re pretty confident,” she said with a laugh.

“Yes well, I have a feeling you wouldn’t have come to the reception uninvited unless you wanted to see me again.” There was that tongue again, poking out of the corner of his mouth, teasing her.

“Ruby made me come,” Emma argued, but it felt like a lame excuse.

“You’re a grown woman, Swan. You could have just gone home. I think you wanted to dance with me.” The slow song ended and Killian led her to a table, pulling out a chair for her.

“I’m never going to win this, am I?” Emma laughed.

Killian surprised her by taking her hand in both of his.

“Will you go out to dinner with me?” he asked her seriously. “If I’m wrong, and you really did come here because your friend forced you, just say no and I’ll leave you be.”

Emma watched him for a moment. His eyes were staring directly into hers, and his hands were warm. They squeezed hers once, and he let out a shaky laugh, unsure what her silence meant.

“Yes, I’ll go out with you, but you have to help me convince my friend Ruby that we _did not_ make out before the wedding.”

He looked at her, very confused, before she recounted the story of what had happened after he’d winked at her on his walk up the aisle. They grew closer as she spoke, and Emma really wasn’t sure which one of them was moving or if, perhaps, they both were.

“Ruby sounds like a smart girl,” Killian said when she finished, when they were nearly pressed against each other, halfway out of their seats. And then he was kissing her, soft and slow. When she responded by running her hands through his hair, he wrapped his arms around her waist and swiftly moved her into his lap.

“I knew it!” Emma distinctly heard Ruby’s voice from somewhere off to the left, but she simply couldn’t be bothered to stop and find her friend just then.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Eight: First "I Love You"  
> *un-betaed*
> 
> LOOK WHO'S FINALLY CAUGHT UP, Y'ALL.  
> (PS. This one's got some implied smut, but nothing crazy)

The first time Killian says he loves her, it’s in his sleep. She’s having trouble keeping her eyes shut, her mind wandering all over the place, when suddenly he tightens his grip on her waist and mumbles into her hair.

“I love you.”

They’ve been dating for half a year, spending more time sleeping together than apart. Their friends have started joking about wedding bells and futures Emma isn’t ready to think about yet, but she always laughs along with everyone else, Killian squeezing her hand under the table when he senses her discomfort.

The truth is, she’s never been loved before.

It’s the oldest story in the book: unloved orphan never finds a home, lives out her young adult life completely independent, and unwilling to open her heart to anyone.

Killian could have stormed through her walls, forcing them down, but instead he’d pushed at them gently, patiently, until he’d found a crack through which he’d fit. The night when everyone else had gone home early and it had just been the two of them, he’d told her about growing up alone – a mother and brother dead, a father distant and then gone for good. She’d listened, eyes widening as she felt their connection forming and strengthening as he spoke.

She’d told him of her own past, and he’d cocked his head, as though seeing her for the very first time.

Afterwards, they were nearly inseparable.

It wasn’t like Emma had never been with anyone before. There had been Neal, the thief who’d tried to frame her but had screwed up his own plan, landing himself in prison. Then Graham, who’d liked her just fine but had been in love with someone else. She’d had flings and one night stands and everything else that fell just outside of the realm of an actual healthy relationship. But Killian was different.

He cooked her dinner and she washed the dishes. He let her pick the movies and the music, unless she was feeling particularly indecisive, and even then, he always chose something he knew she’d like. He held her when she was sad and cold and angry and also when she was happy and proud and excited. He laughed at her horrible jokes and shared her anger at her one co-worker who just couldn’t seem to pull their weight.

Maybe she does love him, actually. She thinks to herself, knowing that any shot she had at sleep is definitely gone now that he’s said those three words. She wonders if he’s thought it while conscious, but hasn’t voiced it for fear of scaring her off. He’s right to be afraid, as she’s definitely tried to push him away before when things became too much.

The first time she realized they’d spent a solid week sharing a bed at night, she hadn’t answered his calls for three days, until he showed up at her apartment with flowers and some version of _The Princess Bride_ with extra scenes she hadn’t seen before, as though everything was normal. She hadn’t been able to shut him out when he barged in like that, and within an hour, she was in his arms on the couch, questioning why she’d wasted three days of her life avoiding someone who cared for her like this.

She’s still awake, wondering if she should tell him she heard him, or maybe just say the words even though she’s not sure, when light trickles in through her window. She’s glad she’s off today, that it’s a Saturday so she can be lazy and stay in bed for as long as she wants. He stirs beside her as she starts to finally drift off. She feigns sleep when he sits up, forcing her breathing to be even and slow.

“I love you,” he says again, but this time he’s awake and telling her when he thinks she can’t hear him.

He does mean it then, and is just trying desperately to let her know without sending her running for the hills. He kisses her forehead, and her eyes flutter. She pretends to wake up and he grins down at her.

They agree on breakfast in bed, and he goes to make pancakes and eggs to bring back for them to share.

She wonders if they should move in together. Maybe that conversation would be easier. It’s more logical than the emotions involved in the three words he’s whispered to her twice now. They spend nearly every night together anyway, so shouldn’t they save on time and rent and bills by just living under one roof?

Emma knows even as she thinks it that it won’t happen. She’ll never bring up cohabitating just like she’s not sure if she’ll ever tell him she loves him. She wonders how long he’ll stick around before he gets tired of constantly climbing the new walls that pop up around her. He’ll leave her, surely, when he realizes just how closed off she really is.

It’s just as well, since that would save her the trouble of trying to voice the fact that she's realized that she does love him. Undoubtedly and completely.

 _Shit_.

He comes back into the room, a smile on his face and carrying a breakfast tray he’d purchased a week ago just for occasions like this, when they don’t want to leave bed for any longer than they need to. There’s a rose in a vase on top and when he sets the tray in her lap, she sees the pancakes are shaped like hearts. She looks up at him, confused.

“It’s, um… Happy Valentine’s Day, Swan.” He scratches behind his ear, clearly thrown off by the fact that she hadn't known what day it is. Are holidays like this important to him?

Emma is torn between trying to make holidays like this important to _her_ because she loves him, and figuring that they can’t be all that great for each other if he believes in corny Hallmark holidays. She’s unsure of what to say when he speaks again.

“I know it’s a stupid holiday, and I didn’t get you a gift or anything, but I thought our first Valentine’s Day together should at least have heart-shaped pancakes. Or something.”

“So it’s… Valentine’s Day isn’t, like, important to you?” She finally finds her voice as he sits beside her, arranging his pillows – _his pillows?_ – so he can lean against them. He laughs, reaching for a forkful of egg.

“No, Swan,” he says after he swallows. “It’s a false holiday made up to sell more candy and flowers.”

She leans over to kiss him then, nearly toppling the breakfast tray as she does so. He reaches out one hand to steady it while the other hand buries itself in her hair.

“I love you,” she says. She’s amazed by how simple it is to say once she’s resigned the fact that it’s the truth. He’s done so much before to get her to open up and let him in, that she thinks maybe for once she should do it on her own. “I love you,” she says again with a laugh, and he’s grinning at her, seemingly as shocked as she is by the admission.

“You do?” he asks, her chin in his hand.

She nods once, realizing that he hasn’t said it back yet. He said it first, really, but it didn’t count since he didn’t know she could hear.

“Well I suppose it’s a good thing I love you back then, isn’t it?” He’s kissing her again, and the tray in her lap nearly crashes to the ground before they both stop and stare at it. She gently takes it and places it on the ground. “I made you pancakes…” he whines halfheartedly.

“To hell with the pancakes,” she says against his mouth, and their breakfast grows very, very cold by the time they’re ready to eat.


End file.
